Stray
by DeiDeiArtistic
Summary: At his birth, Matthew Williams believes he's a misfit. Entering Allied Axis Academy, Matthew meets his long-lost twin brother Alfred F. Jones, yet avoids Alfred. However, his days at AAA aren't all bad. Francis is back, but that doesn't seem to help him..
1. Prologue

**Stray**

**Prologue**

**DeiDeiArtistic: Helloz a ppl! Yet another fanfic from me. :P Although it's genre is "Romance/Angst", there will be also drama, horror, crime and possibly other themes. It may also take some time before pairings break out, but bear with me, 'kay? Lastly, this will mostly Matthew and Alfred POV.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or its cast members.  
Claimer: I co-own Magena and own Caleb Jones, Dr. Osuna and Elliotte "Leo" Williams. I also own the plot.**

**I**

_**A** blonde-haired New-Englander held tightly to his wife-in-labor. Her screams of pain caused his heart so much anxiety, stress and tears to flow from his face, but even then he held a smile as he ushered her assuring whispers laced with love._

_"There there, love. Did you hear the doctor? One more push and our boy will be out."_

_Magena looked at her husband, Caleb Jones, with a flushed face before shrieking out a cry of excruciating agony. It felt as if she was splitting into two, and to do it once more…_

_At her last push, Magena gave birth to a healthy baby boy. Weakly reaching out to her newborn, the Native American gently touched her son's pink cheek, wiping away the tears from the soft-crying newborn. She gave a tired laugh, which sound more like a strained huff of air._

_"Alfred. You're Alfred F-" Magena abruptly stopped mid-speech and was was soon replaced by screaming, "Fucking Jones!"_

_It was unknown whether it was the newborns name or an angry plea at the father._

_"Ma'am, I'm going to need you to calm down, in a moment I'll need you to push, alright?" The doctor, Dr. Osuna, asked Magena, whose only reply was an ear-wrenching cry._

_"Magena, sweetie. Listen to the doctor, okay?" Caleb said with a soft-caring smile as he caressed his wife's hand, ignoring his own tendency to cry in pain as his wife strong grip was about to break his own hand._

_As Magena tried to nod, she closed her eyes and her head fell backwards, her crushing grip loosening in Caleb's hand._

_Stricken with panic, Caleb called out for her, "Magena! Love, are you alright?"_

_Soon, the world seemed to fly by in Caleb's eyes as doctors and nurses pushed him to the side line, holding his newborn son. As he watched confusedly at the scene before him, he heard muffled jargons being thrown here and there by the medical staff as alarms of machines were going off, beeping hectically like his own heartbeat._

_While in the commotion of it all, a brunette haired nurse came up to Caleb, poking his shoulder for his attention. He looked at her as she began to speak, but he didn't seem to hear her words, he just saw her asking him something. Unsurely, he just handed the nurse his son and looked back to his wife._

_It was then his attention was broken by loud, piercing wail. One of the doctor's was holding up a bloody, pink newborn and a nurse immediately began to clean up the baby. Caleb felt his heart leap up for joy and immediately went to check up with his wife when a dreadful sound came into his ears._

_Magena's heart monitor went dead._

_"Magena!" Caleb shouted before two nurses pushed him outside and closed the doors before him. He quickly moved to the viewing-window, in which one of the doctors blocked by closing the window-curtains._

_Aggravated, Caleb pounded his fist against the windows and from there, broke down from all the stress. Crying, Caleb placed is hands over his face and let out a muffled cry. Today was supposed to be a happy day, there shouldn't have been complications. However, even he knows that wasn't entirely true._

_Months prior to this current event, Magena and Caleb only knew of one son, Alfred. Although they had not picked any names for the growing infant, they requested the doctors to keep the gender of the baby a secret so that'd it'd remain a secret until Magena gave birth. However, as weeks came by, Magena became prone to illnesses and her parents begged her to consider an abortion, yet Magena refused and continued on sickly. By the next month, Magena's immune system began to fail._

_As happy as Magena's parents were for her pregnancy, they worried that it was not for the best. Magena showed little signs of improvement and they demanded that she'd get an abortion. Reluctantly, Magena agreed, however not until she took her monthly check-up with Dr. Osuna._

_As the Jones family and Magena's parents left for their family hospital, Megana signed in for her monthly ultra-sound. After the jelly was smeared over her protruding stomach, Dr. Osuna started the ultra-sound and the family was surprised with the sight of another child inside Magena's womb. It was then, Magena's parents realized they could not simply take away two lives and released their daughter from their previous agreement._

_However, it was the seventh month of Magena's pregnancy and she had gone into premature labour. Today was July Fourth and it was the birth of Alfred Fucking Jones and his brother. Caleb Franklin Jones became a widower that day as Dr. Osuna informed the man that his wife died of high fever and they did their best to resurrect her. Holding both his children, the man mournfully cried at the hospital, afflicted with grief._

_It wasn't until a week and a half later Caleb was allowed to leave the hospital with both of his children, one still unnamed. Although his was given an amount of time to name the child, Caleb promised Dr. Osuna he'd come back when he'd finally thought of a name for the child, at which Dr. Osuna agreed._

_Yet, little did Dr. Osuna know that Caleb had no desire to name the second child, nor keep him. Why would he want a child that caused his wife's life? Why would he want a mistake? Why would he want a copy? A misfit. A reject. A banshee child? A murderer?_

_Later that week, with a cloak draped around his body, shielding his face, he carried the second child to the steps of an orphanage. He placed the infant, who was wrapped in a bundle of blankets, in front of the entrance and left as quickly as he came._

_The infant boy was later found by the orphanage's night-security, Mr. Elliotte "Leo" Williams, and brought into the hospital and quickly taken care by the night-shift staff as the boy was cold and suffering from benign-pneumonia. The orphanage's staff thought oddly of the baby's abandonment, as a safety-pin was attached to the child's blanket, labeled "NAMELESS". The child was identified as male and was clearly a newborn as the baby still had his nub of an umbilical cord._

_The caretakers deducted that the boy was irregularly small for a newborn, that he must have been a premature birth as he body was ultimately fragile and delicate and he felt weightless to them. They guessed that he was relatively born around the first of July and only kept for a short while, as he was slightly pudgy and a soft pale complex, instead of a raw pink. However they thought it cruel to abandon an innocent soul in the middle of the night — and without a name no less!_

_Thus, the orphanage then dialed the police and the police replied that there have not been any reports of missing children, or rather infants, at the time being, however they would keep in touch in case anything developed. After the call to the police, the orphanage called the nearest hospitals for recently born nameless infants by the means of a premature birth, yet was given a negative feedback. Unsure of what to do, the orphanage had decided to take the child into their own hands and write up the newborn's birth certificate. However, they were unsure of what to name him as normally that entitlement was given to family members._

_Yet, the 45 year-old French Canadian Elliotte Williams stepped up to the plate and said that he did not mind to take care of the child as he had found the nameless child in the first place. His fellow staff accepted the idea and allowed Mr. Williams to be the caretaker of the child, as he had raised his own family at one point in his life and was still able to do so._

_It was later finalized of who the nameless child became._

**Name: Matthew Williams  
Date of Birth: July 1st, 20XX,  
Time of Birth: 7:07 PM  
Weight: 4 lbs, 9.33 oz  
Parent/Guardian's Signature: _Elliotte Williams_  
Nationality: French-Canadian**

Enter Matthew Williams.

**i**

**So, should I continue? (O3o)~?**

**The next chapter will be Chapter 1 and it will take place years later until Matthew is fifteen, just so you know~ :3**

**Review your thoughts of the story so far, 'kay?**

**ii**

**Also, for anyone waiting for the next chapter of "Hinokuni Highschool", sadly it's on hiatus until I am able to get myself out of a "plot-rut". :c Don't worry, it will continue, just not any time soon…**

**~DeiDeiArtistic**


	2. Who?

**Stray**

**Chapter 1**

**Who?**

**DeiDeiArtistic: Let's state the obvious and say this is the First Chapter! :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't, or ever will own Hetalia or its cast. I also don't own Huckleberry Finn (or the mention of it).  
Claimer: I own the plot of this story~**

**I**

**W**hile walking through the corridors of Allied Axis Academy quietly, Matthew Williams clutched nervously at his bags, which were his satchel, suitcase (the handle had broken at the airport) and a large backpack. At the age of fifteen, he is a rather lanky at 5'6 with no bone or muscle. However, this was difficult to say or tell as he always wore a red hoodie, one that was a size too large for him, as were most of his clothes. He wore a large white T-shirt where the end of the shirt stuck out under his hoodie and large baggy jeans that were against Triple A's dress code, but wore a fade leather belt to keep them up. In all truth, he looked out of place with his clothes with his innocent face.

Having a benign case of albinism and amelanism, Matthew had violet eyes and pale skin. He also had "bi-colored" strawberry blonde hair. At the top of his head, his hair was a light strawberry blonde, however as it grew down it became darker in color, with hint of light red-orange hues here and there from certain sun-light. His hair, in which he thought was at an awkward stage, was too long to be short, but too short to be long. However, if he ever felt silly enough, he could have placed his hair in a two-inch, low pony-tail.

It was August and Matthew was as nervous as he's ever been. He was miles away from his home in Quebec and though he knew English, he still had a lingering Québécois accent trailing his English. However, it's not like he ever spoke, so it didn't really matter that much. He also felt a forbidden door open and it terrified him deeply to the point of a mental breakdown — almost though. Although he was supposed to feel safe at one of the All-inclusive Allied Axis Association's academies that was to spread a variety culture across the globe in order to create a trust, understanding, and tolerance of other countries, he felt alone and isolated — but it's not like it mattered of what he thought.

Allied Axis Academy of Sonari, Arizona*, also known as Triple A or TASA* is just one of the many academies All-inclusive Allied Axis Association*, or Quad A, funds throughout America. The creator, Dr. Rome Vargas, became a multi-trillionaire from the succession of Quad A, which is planted almost all across the globe, fueling him with all sorts of wealth. However, Dr. Vargas died shortly after his success and left his trillions and growing to his grandsons Lovino and Feliciano Vargas.

While distracted in his thoughts, he bumped into someone and clumsily dropped his bags, which scattered across the floor. Wide-eyed, Matthew looked up and saw a tall blonde-haired teen with cold blue eyes. This teen had broad shoulders and a threatening stance, cowering, Matthew's mouth open ever-so slightly and began to quiver, eyes as wide as an owl's.

"Vatch vere you're going, ja?" the apparent German teen said sternly, waiting for Matthew's reply

However, Matthew did all but answer, not even a nod or a sound escaped him. He just stood still, wide-eyed and frozen as if he was caught in a crossfire of some sort.

The German teen rolled his eyes and ignored Matthew, heading off to wherever his destination was, Matthew still standing in the hall, bags still scattered across the floor. Although it felt as an hour had passed, only a mere couple minutes went by before Matthew was able to compose himself. Reaching down for his bags, Matthew piled them back into his arms and began to walk the corridors again.

Although today was the first day for students to come to school, it was not the first day of school. The students didn't have school until August 15th, and it was August 9th. This was so that students were able to locate their lockers and dormitories, but to also finalize schedules, transcripts and memorize the layout of the school. However, unlike most schools, TASA was not an indoor academy although it was fenced.

TASA was and outdoor academy and to get to another class, most students would have to cross small bridges, ramps and stairs to reach one of the five buildings of the school campus. The main building was the largest building and was at the center of the campus; however it was built inside the "crater" of the school ground, which was dubbed the "Crater" by the students. The main building was what also housed the student and staff dormitories, lockers, the dining hall, the main theatre (which also worked as the assembly room) and official quarters (i.e. the principals' office, attendance, etc.). Just outside the main building was a large seat-less amphitheatre, were students were allowed to hang or eat around the "stage" and steps of the upward grassy slopes.

Pass and around the Crater was the rest of the school campus that were ordered by the ordinal directions. The Northwest Building taught science and mathematics; the Southwest Building taught history and foreign language; the Northeast taught art and literature and lastly the Southeast was in charge of sports and physical education. Each of the buildings was fairly large, enough to comfortably hold 35 students and there were numerous amounts of rooms in each complex.

In the cardinal directions between the ordinals were the nurse stations, so to prevent any inconvenience to any student or staff. Like the class buildings, the nurse stations were named by whichever direction they were in. There were four nurses, Miss Héderváry, Mr. Karpusi, Miss Meijer and Miss Braginskaya. Each was positioned at the North, South, East or West Nurse Station, which also counteracted as his or her own "dorm" if necessary.

To make trips across the campus faster and more convenient for anyone's sake, bridge-structures in a circular, overlapping style held up by elegant columns. The bridges were built within the perimeter of the Crater with the best of architecture and calculations for a stable, safe yet complex bridge system (i.e. draw a circle and place an octagon inside, the sides of the octagon act as the bridge-ways and the circle acts as the Crater). It was with this structure that made TASA more fascinating to glance upon.

Overall, from the Aztec-inspired design of the school to its wonderful gardens of desert plants and fountains and stone-tiled walk ways, TASA was an absolute gorgeous school that became the largest "high school" in Arizona, surpassing another school by hosting more than 2,000 students and the numbers would steadily rise over the years. However, it did not only just take fame or fortune to enter these prestigious schools like TASA, many students could have simply entered the exchange-scholarship program (at which in the end they wrote an essay of what they had learned during their time in the program), where highly educate of skilled in certain proficiencies or just simply in the academy'e range.

It was in the inter-exchange program that Matthew was brought from Quebec's own Allied Axis Academy to study in America, however placed in the Southwestern section of America, where accents where known to disappear from the holder… Perhaps it was because of his heavy accented English that brought him to Arizona, where English was spoken with no twang of heavy or odd drawls and understandable from the first spoken word to the last. Arizona, a place where the English language was spoken as plain and dry as the hot sand below his feet. Arizona — home of the accent-less accent (DDA: Oddly, that is our "accent" is called).

**II**

Matthew inwardly sighed, regretting to have enrolled into the program, scholarship or not. Although it didn't really matter if he was be able to understand the brogue-less English, Matthew was not used to the dry heat or blazing sun or the fact that being in the States made him quite sad that he could not converse in his natural tongue. He didn't like most of the people he's meet, or seen. The rich were horrible when it came to socializing with the less fortunate. Many anti-socials glared at anyone who approached them and it seemed those of Arizona tended to poke fun at those with accents, sometimes though. And worst of all, any time anyone actually asked a question to him, it was_always_ about _America_! But, then again, it's not like he said anything.

Fretfully, Matthew worked his way up to the main office and brought a hand to a door labeled "ATTENDENCE". However, although he looked ready to simply knock on the door, all his actions were stopped at mid-action. Matthew stood stationary at door, staring at it as his hand began to shake and again his eyes widen in fear. What if he was disturbing the peace? Would someone hear his knocking? Would they be annoyed? Or would they smile and act like they cared? What if they ignored him and his knocking? Was anyone even in at the moment? Did he have to make an appointment? Was he being rude?

Matthew quickly snapped out of his thoughts when he heard someone clear their throat behind him. Jumping from the sudden noise, Matthew turned around to see a taller, but quite "round" boy with long brown hair tied back in dreadlocks. The boy seemed to be around Matthew's age, but has started to mature into an adult, the traces of his boyhood fading out. The teen wore a loose Hawaiian-floral shirt, shorts and flip-flops and had his backpack slung over his shoulder in a careless manner. He had deep brown eyes and dark colored skin.

"Ar ju going to open de door?" the teen said in an accented English, however Matthew wasn't quite sure of what to make of the accent. It'd sounded like that of a Hispanic background, but he couldn't say that it was a Mexican accent (he was not the type of person to stereotype).

Matthew drew back his hand and shook his head. Stepping back, Matthew allowed the other teen to proceed forward and the boy simply shrugged and did as he pleased. The other boy knocked on the door and stepped back slightly, waiting for a response. It was only a matter of time before the door opened to reveal a man who looked somewhere in his forties if not older. This man had long blonde hair and Matthew could see that it was beginning to grey and fair complexion. The man had a stern face with cold blue eyes that reminded Matthew of the German student Matthew ran into. However, this man was quite handsome for an elderly man and seemed to age gracefully.

"Guten tag, I am Gerhart Beilschmidt. Vat do you vant?" Mr. Beilschmidt asked. Matthew somehow felt the name was recognizable, but he couldn't place his finger as to why…

"Yo, I'm Miguel Chavez y I'd like to uh… — ¿Qué es la palabra?* — Ah, to change my schedule." Miguel asked.

Mr. Beilschmidt nodded and looked at Matthew, "Are you here for that as well."

Matthew shook his head no.

"Oh, than are you here for your dorm papers?" Mr. Beilschmidt asked.

Matthew nodded his head, twiddling his fingers and looking down.

Mr. Beilschmidt grunted and allowed the two boys into his office. "Step inside and take a right into that hall. After that, take a seat." He said as they entered.

"Okay." Miguel said, walking forward and seeing a hall to his left. Walking to the first room that was to the right in the hall, he seated himself into a black-leather one-seater with armrests and set his belongings to the side.

Matthew followed Miguel's example and sat down in the other one-seater.

Mr. Beilschmidt went around them and behind a desk-set with a triangular desk-plaque inscribed with the name "REGISTRAR: FIALA NOVÁKOVÁ", which Matthew thought was weird, because then if this wasn't Mr. Beilschmidt's office, then who was he?

"Name." Mr. Beilschmidt asked, his hand's set at the computer's keyboard.

"Miguel Chavez."

Mr. Beilschmidt made no reply back and back to type away at the computer. While he was typing, he looked at Miguel monotonously and said, "Come over here."

Miguel shrugged and walked over to Mr. Beilschmidt, "Okay."

The two began to talk quietly with Miguel pointing his finger to the computer screen every so often. As they were doing so, Matthew grabbed his satchel and fumbled through some folders. Grabbing a portfolio, which was labeled "TRANSCRIPTS", Matthew pulled it out and fastened-up his satchel. Placing the file into his lap, he set his satchel back onto the ground.

Taking the contents of the file out, Matthew began to peer through the contents, double checking everything that he needed was there. Glancing through the papers, Matthew frowned. The papers he had was his school records, funds and information he needed to get around by TASA and Arizona, however there were odd mistakes that he circled and corrected in red.

First, for whatever reasons, his name was misspelt as "Michelle Williams", in which he crossed out and wrote down "Matthew Williams". They also incorrectly placed him as "American" when he was, in fact, Canadian. For his residence at TASA, he was placed in the girls' dormitories _and_ physical education class, which was wrong. Another thing was that he had no current address, when he still had a house in Quebec. Lastly, his school funds were missing as well as his bank account, which left him stranded at Arizona penniless until the matter was solved.

As Matthew waited quietly for Miguel and Mr. Beilschmidt to finish whatever it was they were doing, Matthew stared blankly at his papers until he heard someone clear their throat. Slightly jumping from his seat, Matthew looked up to see Mr. Beilschmidt looking at him, Miguel gone.

Blushing, Matthew stood up and gave Mr. Beilschmidt his papers high-lighted and corrected with bright red writing. Mr. Beilschmidt grabbed the papers and leafed through with disinterest, something Matthew had grown accustom to. After page by page, Mr. Beilschidt sighed and sat down the papers on the desk and stood up.

"So, Matthew Williams is it?" Mr. Beilschmidt asked, looking at Matthew with his stern glare-like eyes.

Matthew nervously nodded his head, fidgeting his index fingers, feely very culpable of the situation.

Mr. Beilschmidt grabbed Matthew's papers again and walked away from the dean's desk and into the hall. "I'll see to that these mistakes get corrected in the nearby future. I suggest that you go find a dorm that you can reside in the meantime."

Matthew stared blankly at Mr. Beilschmidt and gave a small frown. It wasn't really the answer he was looking for, but at least it was something. Matthew nodded his head at Mr. Beilschmidt, grabbed his belongings and left the main office quietly.

Heading down the hall, Matthew grabbed out his map of the school from his pocket and took a look at it, locating the direction of the male dormitories. Upon looking at the map, he saw that he needed to go to the second level of the main building and located a symbol of a stairway nearby Matthew's own location. Neatly folding up the map, Matthew strode off to find the stairway.

After walking up the stairs to the second level of the school, Matthew nervously glanced around and began to roam the halls. After a while, Matthew worked up his courage to pick a room and hope it was empty. Looking around, Matthew eyed a room at the end of the hall he was in. The room was next to a window, where a bookcase sat idly next to it. In front of the window was a rather small table with a matching small chair next to it, a potted plant and doily at the center of the table. Matthew could help but think the layout of it was quite romantic and would have like to stay next to the simple array of furniture.

Setting out into the hall, Matthew walked over to the door, labeled "K-24", and slowly turning the doorknob. Slightly opening the door, Matthew peered through the door and glanced around, seeing if there was already an occupant. When he saw none, Matthew let out a breath of relief and entered the room. Dropping his belongings beside the wall, Matthew looked around the room's current state.

The room was fairly large enough to house a person comfortably, yet still small enough to crowd a group of five. The room also lacked any variety of decorative furniture, which was rather a positive than a negative as Matthew would be free to arrange and decorate the room to his liking. The only furniture in the room was a slender bed placed by the wall, a bureau, and a wardrobe. Matthew saw two sets of doors, one on the right, next to the desk and wardrobe, and one on the left, next to the desk and bed.

Curiously, Matthew walked over to door on the right and turned the knob. Behind the door was nothing real special, just a relatively small closet. Closing the closet door, Matthew walked over to the other and wondered what it was for. Opening the door, Matthew had very much regretted he poor decision making. Behind the door was a rather occupied bathroom.

Inside the bathroom was a taller teen; however he was quite lean in figure. He had dirty blonde hair and quite thick, caterpillar-like eyebrows. He had brilliant emerald eyes housing shock and astonishment marked over his face. Lastly, his skin was pale but quite fair, yet very naked — very naked and very wet.

Matthew and the green-eyed teen stared eye-to-eye with shock until Matthew bowed his head and stepped back, closing the door slowly until it inaudibly shut closed. After closing the door, Matthew backed away from the door and proceeded to the desk. Grabbing the chair, Matthew adjusted it so that was neatly perched under the door handle of the bathroom. Then, after creating the makeshift door blockade, Matthew calmly walked away and locked himself inside the room closet.

Stranded in the mere darkness of the closet, Matthew let out an unmanly squeak when he felt light shed it unbarring brightness fell upon him. Shakily looking up, Matthew saw it was the teen from the bathroom. However, he was now wearing clothes and they looked as if he rushed himself when he was dressing up as his hair and skin was still slicked with glimmering water and is clothes were quite dishevel. The teen was looking at Matthew with shaky emerald and panting slightly.

"What the bloody fucking hell was _that_?" The teen said with a very distant British accent.

Matthew stared dumbly at the British teen, his mind currently shutting down at the situation.

"Well? Explain yourself."

Again, no reply. Just a dumbfound look.

The Briton twitched an eyebrow in irritation and the scowl on his face didn't seem to falter in any way. For what seemed like an eternity when it was actually more than a couple of minutes, Matthew tried to formulate an explanation when he heard a loud bang in his room, just outside the closet it seemed.

"Yo! Why is there a guy in my room!" Someone yelled. The voice sounded strange, obnoxious and definitely American.

"What the —?" Matthew heard the British teen say, who was currently gawking at whoever entered the room.

Curious of what seemed so shocking, Matthew got on his fours and crawled over to the door, tilting his head forward and peering out between the English teen's legs, what he saw next was something absolutely disturbing. At the door of the room, he saw another blonde-haired teen, however, with the same face as him. Matthew dropped his jaw and before he knew what happened, the world went black…

**III**

Matthew squirmed and writhed as he felt a coolness wave over his face. Swatting away whatever it was, Matthew yelped when something caught his wrist. Opening his eyes and squinting at the light, Matthew squeaked when he saw a pair of green eyes staring his, yet they were not scowling at him. Wiggling his wrist away from the green-eyed Brit, Matthew sat up and edged himself to the corner of the wall. It was then Matthew realized he was on the bed.

Barely opening his mouth, Matthew heard the sound of shuffling and turned his head to the door, where he saw the look-a-like rummaging through his satchel and discarding whatever items he held in there until he grinned and exclaimed "Ah-ha!". Matthew saw that the look-a-like was holding up his ID.

The look-alike was clad in a white T-shirt and loose baggy jeans, revealing red and blue plaid boxers. However, Matthew thought it strange as the sun-kissed teen was wearing a bomber jacket. It looked old, but well furnished. He also noted that this teen had bright sky-blue eyes and wheat blonde hair with a cowlick sticking up defiantly. He also didn't have any type of albinism, like Matthew himself.

"Matthew Williams… So that's your name." The look-a-like said. "Weird…"

"Hey! That is completely rude!" The Briton exclaimed, "You do not go around snooping in other's belongings!"

"Hey… You two were in _my_ room doing who-knows-what and _your_ telling _me_ that _I'm being_ _rude_? Pfft. Yeah right."

"I didn't _know_ it was _your_ room, I thought it was _his_ room!"

"Did you just take a shower? 'Cause like you didn't do a good job drying up your hair. It's like all wet and stuff."

The English teen blushed. "Yes I recently did, but I rushed myself to dress so I can demand why this boy — Michelle — barged into the restroom while I finished up my wash!"

"LOL! That's too funny!" The American laughed. Turning to Matthew, he arched his brows suggestively. "Did you see anything?"

Matthew felt his cheeks redden and he buried his face between his hands.

"Ahahaha! He totally did!"

"Shut up you bloody wanker!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." The American waved off, ignoring the Brit and turning towards Matthew. "Yo! I'm Alfred F. Jones, but you'll soon know me as the Hero!"

Matthew gave Alfred a strange stare. The Hero?

The Englishmen scoffed, "Hero…" Turning towards Matthew, he extended out a hand. "Hello, I'm Arthur Kirkland. It was — very unique to have met your presence…"

Matthew slowly nodded his head and warily grasped Arthur's hand to little by little, tremblingly shake Arthur's hand. However as he did so, he looked helplessly at Alfred, rummaging through his bags and the word for 'stop' was lost at his throat.

"So, are you like my brother or something?" Alfred asked, looking through Matthew's belonging once again.

"Will you stop that!" Arthur spat, glaring at Alfred and his insolence.

"What? I thought siblings were like supposed to be snoopy and stuff…" Alfred lamely excused himself.

"I thought you were twins?" Arthur asked.

"I don't know, are we? My birthday's July 4th, what about you Mattie?" Alfred asked, looking at Matthew with a serene face. Matthew furrowed his brows in thought, well that was rather strange…

Arthur pinch the bridge of his nose, "If you're twins, wouldn't you two — oh I don't know… Have the same birthday?"

"Well, I don't know why not. I don't know anything about twins, much less having one. I'm an only child! Or was anyways."

"How can you not know you have a brother, much less a twin!"

"Maybe because I never had one!"

"Well then how do you explain Mitchell there?"

"I don't know! Cloning. Cousin of some sort. Time traveling."

"How are those possibilities? Really. Time travel?"

"Hey! It could happen!"

"Regardless, the two of you are twins. It's simple as fact."

"No it's not. Because, if it is, why haven't I heard of this guy… It's a guy right?" Alfred turned to Matthew with a baffled look. "You are a guy, right?"

Matthew stared at Alfred with a blank, exasperated face.

"Imma take it you're a dude."

Matthew rolled his eyes and shook his head in disbelief. Honestly, of all things.

"You really aren't the brightest crayon in the box, are you Alfred." Arthur said, looking at Alfred with little amusement.

Alfred rolled his eyes and blew a puff of air. "Well duh. I'm not a crayon. Didn't ya not notice that I'm a person? Not a colorful waxy stick."

"Cor blimey, your English is terrible."

"What? Anyways, Mattie, are you my twin or not?"

Matthew looked at Alfred and gave no response. How was he supposed to know? If Alfred didn't know he had a twin, what made him think Matthew knew? Hell, Matthew didn't know he had family, of course other than Père*…

"Now, how about we settle this as a case of… 'Long-lost twins' from… Some sort of hospital mix-up?" Arthur suggested, putting together a possible scenario.

"Works for me, but then wouldn't my dad noticed he's missing a kid?" Alfred noted.

Arthur put on a perplexed face, "What about your mother?"

"Oh, yeah. She's dead." Alfred deadpanned.

Matthew felt a tug at his heart, one that he didn't particularly like, but wasn't sure as to why. Perhaps it was because of Alfred's deceased mother… It was always sad to hear of unfortunate events. But, if Alfred was his brother, then would that make it his deceased mother?

"Oh…" Arthur started quietly. "I'm terribly sorry for your lost."

Alfred shrugged. "Eh, don't be. It's not like I knew her or something. Died during birth or whatever, I don't know. Never really took stock for dead people.*"

Matthew and Arthur gave Alfred a confounded and slightly horrified look.

"That's completely insensitive and a ghastly thing to say! Honestly!" Arthur said abhorrently.

"What?" Alfred asked confusingly, looking at the two with an innocent face. "Hey, Mattie. Why've ya got lots of bags? And a purse?"

"That's a satchel, Alfred." Arthur corrected. "And stop rummaging through items that don't belong to you. Haven't you ever heard of this little wonder called 'common decency' or 'manners'? Just a little can do a whole lot of good."

"Nope, I guess that's why they call it a wonder. You don't know what it is." Alfred laughed cheekily, causing Arthur's cheeks to redden.

"Well, stop being so nosy damn it! You cannot simply do as you please!" Arthur hissed through his lips.

"Yeah. Whatever." Alfred said, shrugging off Arthur's comment and grabbing Matthew's backpack and accidently knocking over his suitcase. "Oops."

Matthew frowned at the scene, but found it useless to speak otherwise. It was highly-unlikely that Alfred would listen at the command to stop. However, it was the backpack that Alfred had grabbed that caused his heart to stop. The backpack was large, red and raggedy, with of course a small Canadian pin attached to it. Weakly, Matthew reached out his arm to stop Alfred and orders to stop were coming quite short. Matthew grabbed his backpack and used all his might to pull it from Alfred, who laughed in response and acted as if Matthew's tugging and pulling was nothing.

"Alfred! Stop that!" Arthur demanded. "Clearly he's had enough of your prying hands!"

Alfred laughed louder. "Or maybe's he's hiding something juicy!" Matthew pulled harder at his backpack, but Alfred resisted his movements.

"Alfred!"

It was then, at the British man's voice, all three heard the sound of worn fabric tear and the force of the pulling caused a large white object to project away to the wall before them like a slingshot. The trio stared speechless at the torn backpack and then to the farther of the room, where the fallen object lie.

This object was Matthew's most beloved, most precious, and most treasured being that ever came across Matthew's life, besides Père of course. It was the softness the wiped away the tears. It was the white purity that masked away the red darkness. It was the sole cloud the rose above him to shield away the rain. It was the golden ray of sunshine that lit up his broken world. This was his best friend who held his secrets and held intimate moments. This was his savior. This was Kumajirou.

"Holy shit! Teddy bear!" Alfred laughed, looking at Matthew. "You still carry around a teddy bear? Man that's weak." Walking over to the fallen polar bear, Alfred picked it up and began to toss it into the air, laughing jokingly at the toy.

Biting his lip, Matthew felt the sting of tears developing round his eyes. By each second, watching Alfred toss the bear to-and-fro, Matthew's vision began to blur behind his glasses. Arthur must have seen this as he began to repeat "Alfred" in a stern, darkly tone, yet the man in question didn't seem to catch the warning. Clenching his fists as fat hot tears streamed down his face, Matthew screamed and slapped Alfred hard across the face.

Alfred flew back slightly and fell square across the floor, wincing at the stinging pain. Matthew quickly grabbed Kumajirou and held him protectively, falling to his knees to let out a muffled shriek into the bear's soft fur. Unsure what to do, Arthur bent down and gently patted the boy's back. However, he recoiled in reflex when Matthew let out another shriek and almost kicked the British teen as he clumsily got up to his feet. Still clutching the bear tightly and eyes red with hot tears, Matthew looked at them with widen, watery eyes and left out a sniff before bursting out a new set of tears and running out the room.

After a while of silence and watching blankly out the door, it was Alfred to break the odd silence.

"What the hell was that for?"

Arthur glared at him before huffing away, muttering "Fucking daft American. Honestly… The thought of it… Fucking read the damn atmosphere!"

Alfred furrowed his eyebrows, "But…who's the author?"

**IV**

Walking fast-paced across the city sidewalk, tears no longer running but still threaten to spill at any moment, Matthew clutched Kumajirou affectionately by running his fingers through the bear's fur. As he walked by, people gave him odd looks but he didn't care, Kumajirou was there to take away the evil. Sighing out a choked sob, Matthew stopped walking and buried his face into Kuma's amazingly soft-silken fur. Squeaking when someone rudely bumped into him, Matthew gave into a slight jog and ran into a store panting wit adrenaline. Looking around, Matthew saw himself if a café shop of some sort.

The café was a mixture of an internet café and library with smooth jazz playing about. The colors were quite mellow and pleasant, a cream peach with brown, white and robin egg-blue. The store seemed to have a French feel, with French windows and doors and the furniture had a romantic and elegant aura. There were quite a few people, but Matthew found it to be quite lovely. Having no money, but did not want to seem silly for barging in, Matthew calmly walked to a table and seated himself and Kuma.

Picking up a menu, Matthew placed it between Kuma and the table, and grabbed a menu for himself as well. Matthew thought if he looked like he wanted to at least order something, then change his mind about it, he wouldn't have seemed so odd to have ran into the café like a frighten kitten. However, nothing ever goes as planned when Matthew heard a heavy French accent ask him something.

_« Avez-vous trouvé quoi que ce soit que vous voulez commander, monsieur ? »*_

Matthew blushed and gawked at the man before him. Beautiful bedroom dark blue eyes that seemed so seductive. Flawless light-colored skin with the right amount of tan. Golden silky-wavy hair that ended above his shoulders that shimmered beautifully in the light. A slender jaw line with neatly trimmed stubble that screamed refined masculinity. This man seemed like a sex god, Adonis if not. He was so captivating…

Yet, realizing he had been staring, Matthew blushed and turned his head away bashfully. There was something odd about this man, something quite familiar… Ghostly in fact. But he couldn't quite place his finger on it.

"I apologize. _Ne pensez-vous pas parler français ?_ Do 'ou not speak French? I was so certain too. 'Ou 'ave zat air about 'ou…"

It was then Matthew triggered a memory that was almost forgotten. Looking back at the Frenchman with a shy, yet curious of the risk he's taking, Matthew bite his bottom lip before taking the big jump.

"Fran-cis?"

The Frenchman blinked, finding it odd that the boy knew his name, as his robin egg-blue nametag simply said F. BONNEFOY in white French Script MT*. "Yes? I'm sorry, but do I know 'ou?"

Matthew blushed. Normally, he would have taken harshly by the comment, but he kindly forgave Francis for it. Bashfully with a coy smile on his lips, Matthew grabbed the menu from Kumajirou's lap and placed it on the table. Matthew then grabbed Kuma and placed him on his lap, facing Francis. Too embarrassed from the situation, Matthew was hiding behind Kuma and looking in the other direction so as not to look at Francis.

Confused at the boy's action, Francis stared at the stuff polar bear with slight boredom. But after a while starring into those beady black eyes and glistening white fur, Francis felt a tinge of nostalgia, as if it was a time long forgotten. Deciding that the boy was giving Francis a clue with the bear, Francis concentrated hard onto the bear, trying to place it from his memories. It was then, it hit him.

…

_« A__ttention! Un carnaval !_ _Veuillez nous pouvons peut-être passer grand frère ! S'il vous plaît !_

— _D'accord, d'accord ! Nous pouvons aller au carnaval, mais seulement si vous vous comportez._

— _Je vais grand frère ! Je vais agir !_

— _On hon hon hon. Vous êtes trop mignon chère. »_

…

_« Qu'est-ce que vous regardez mon petit ?_

— _R-Rien !_

— _Non, me dire mon petit._

— _L__e grand joli ours polaire de plus il y a_…

— _Voulez-vous me le gagner pour vous ?_

— _Vraiment ! Oh s'il vous plaît ! S'il vous plaît ! S'il vous plaît !_

— _Mais bien sûr, Matthieu._

— _Vous êtes le meilleur François ! »_

…

_« F__rançois !_ _Je ne peux pas croire que vous n'avez rien pour moi ! Oh merci ! Merci ! Merci !_

— _Quoi que ce soit pour vous mon chère._

— _Vous êtes le meilleur grand frère jamais._

— _On hon hon hon, je sais que je suis. »_

…

_« Qu'est-ce que vous allez lui donner le même nom ?_

— _Je ne sais pas… Que pensez-vous que je devrais nom ?_

— _C__e n'est pas à moi mon lapin._

— _Hmm… Je vais… Kumajirou._

— _Q__uel joli nom mon chère. »_

…

"Matthieu is zat 'ou? Is zat really 'ou?" Francis asked, looking at Matthew with astonishment.

Matthew smiled lightly and nodded his head, looking at Francis with happy eyes. Francis had remembered him. Francis _remembered_ him. It made him feel so happy inside — so warm. Matthew, never in his life, thought he'd ever see Francis again after he had moved when he was 15. But, it was been seven years since then and both had changed significantly.

Francis laughed and grabbed Matthew's face, cupping his cheeks to gaze at the changes the years have caused, but oh-so-very happy to see that beautiful innocence apparent through those violet eyes. However, taken by surprised, Matthew squealed and roughly pushed Francis away. Amazed by his action, Matthew gasped and looked at Francis frightfully, making choked up sounds of bewilderment.

Betrayed by his actions, Matthew's vision blurred and tears ran down his cheeks yet again. Ashamed, Matthew squeezed Kumajirou and quickly ran out from the café, letting out soft, stifled sobs.

After Matthew had left, Francis got back to his feet and looked at the café entrance, very confused at the situation. What did he do to offend the boy so quickly? Was his petit mad that he had forgotten about him? Was he still his petit? His mon chère? His petit lapin? What he still Matthew's grand frère?

_« Sacre bleu, Mathieu ? »_

**i**

**Sonari, Arizona*** — A town I made up. It's imaginary location is Maricopa County, near Maricopa (city), Casa Grande and Sonoran Desert National Monument.

**Triple A or TASA* **— Allied Axis Academy; Triple A of SA = Allied _A_xis Academy of Sonari, Arizona

**All-inclusive Allied Axis Association* **— I just could resist the urge to make it all A's, hence "Quad A". (=w=)

**¿Qué es la palabra?*** — Spanish; "What's that/the word?" I suck at Spanish, so I apologize if I fucked it up. :P

**Père*** — French; "Father"

**Never really took stock for dead people.* **— Yes, I could help myself but make a reference to Huckleberry Finn. (Chapter 1: Huck: "…by she let it out that Moses had been dead a considerable long time; so then I didn't care no more about him, because I don't take no stock in dead people.")

**French Script MT* **— a type font.

**« » and — **: This is part of French punctuation-grammar rules. Seeing that I was using French, I thought it was appropriate to use French etiquette on punctuation instead of English punctuation. I apologize if I used them wrong, I'm taking Spanish, not French. (QnQ)

**French dialog : I deeply apologize if anything is wrong. I used Dictionary's (dictionary.) translation option, so sorry for any mistakes. PM me if you know how to make the corrections for it and would like me to change them. :3**

_A__vez-vous trouvé quoi que ce soit que vous voulez commander, monsieur? * _— Do you have anything you would like to order, mister?

_A__ttention! Un carnaval !_ _Veuillez nous pouvons peut-être passer grand frère ! S'il vous plaît ! _— Look! A carnival! Please can we go there big brother! Please!

_D__'accord, d'accord ! Nous pouvons aller au carnaval, mais seulement si vous vous comportez. _— Alright, alright. We'll go to the carnival, but only if you behave.

_J__e vais grand frère ! Je vais agir ! _— I'll behave big brother! I'll behave!

_O__n hon hon hon. Vous êtes trop mignon chère. — *laughs* _You're too cute my dear (feminine).

_Q__u'est-ce que vous regardez mon petit ? —_ What are you looking at my little one?

_R__-Rien ! _— N-Nothing!

_N__on, me dire mon petit. _— No, tell me my little one.

_L__e grand joli ours polaire de plus il y a_… — The big pretty polar bear over there…

_V__oulez-vous me le gagner pour vous ? _— Would you like me to win it for you?

_V__raiment ! Oh s'il vous plaît ! S'il vous plaît ! S'il vous plaît ! _— Really! Oh please! Please! Please!

_M__ais bien sûr, Matthieu. _— But of course, Matthew.

_V__ous êtes le meilleur François !_ —You're the best Francis!

_F__rançois !_ _Je ne peux pas croire que vous n'avez rien pour moi ! Oh merci ! Merci ! Merci ! _— Francis! I can't believe you got it for me! Oh thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

_Q__uoi que ce soit pour vous mon chère. _— Anything for you my dear (feminine).

_V__ous êtes le meilleur grand frère jamais. _— You're the best big brother ever.

_O__n hon hon hon, je sais que je suis. _— *laughs* I know I am.

_Q__u'est-ce que vous allez lui donner le même nom ?_ — What are you going to name it?

_J__e ne sais pas… Que pensez-vous que je devrais nom ?_ — I don't know… What do you think I should name it?

_C__e n'est pas à moi mon lapin. _— That is not up to me my rabbit/bunny.

_H__mm… Je vais… Kumajirou._ — Hmm… I'll name it… Kumajirou.

_Q__uel joli nom mon chère. _— What a lovely name my dear (feminine)

Sacre bleu — Sacred blue.

**ii**

**Again, I apologize for the butching of any language ! (Q-Q)**

**Frankly, I also wanted to posted this up a whole lot of days earlier, but _nothing_ _ever_ goes according to plan, huh? Stupid school and stupid being sick-ish state. XP**

**Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. (Owo)**

**Until next time, or chapter, au revoir ~!.**

**DeiDeiArtistic**


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